


Too Late

by LectorEl



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Captivity, Kon's new origin story is canon here, M/M, ra's is a vengeful bastard, sort of Nu52 but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LectorEl/pseuds/LectorEl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim got captured by N.O.W.H.E.R.E.<br/>Ra's steps in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Late

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ra's/Tim art by Yufei](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/15128) by Yufei. 



Tim was increasingly sure he hated Superboy. Hated him for who he worked for, for what he represented, for who he was. For asking Tim why he bothered trying to help. How could somebody not understand? People could be petty and ignorant and cruel. The ones who tried not to be got chewed up and spit out by the world. Life was unfair. Good people died, bad people triumphed, innocents suffered. How could you live with yourself if you could do something about it and _didn’t_?

You had to. You just had to, even if it ended like this. Trapped in a cell, locked in a straitjacket, drugged, slowly losing himself. Tim. Tim wanted to remember that as long as possible. That it was worth it. The drugs N.O.W.H.E.R.E. dosed him with made his thoughts hazy and muddled, made it hard to remember things. And once he forgot, he couldn’t remember again. He was. He was losing things. His brothers’ names. His father’s face. Faces? His birthday, who his enemies were, how to do things.

He’d lost his other name. The one- Tim frowned, forcing himself to think through the haze. The one. The name, for when he was in. Uniform. The new one, after the old one. The old one that the new son took from him. That name. He only had Tim now. He couldn’t- there was. More. Tim something something. A. A last name, a family name. Different from his brothers. He thought? Maybe it was the same. Maybe he was wrong.

As his thoughts fragmented, his control faded. He was falling apart. Worthless. Worthless. N.O.W.H.E.R.E. wanted him broken, and they were breaking him. But. He still had his name. Tim. Tim. He was Tim, and he’d cling to that until everything else was gone.

***

Ra’s sneered at the remnants of the foolish organization. Ra’s did not care if they chose to hunt down adolescents with the meta gene. But they had taken the young detective, and Ra’s men had discovered it too late. By now, the drugs and indoctrination must have run their course, and all that could remain would be a hollow shell.

Ra’s _disapproved_. Timothy could have been magnificent, and all these fools could see was an obstacle to their plan. He could not save Timothy. But he would avenge him, and lay his body to rest.

“Where is Timothy?” Ra’s asked coldly, tip of his sword resting at the throat of the last living scientist. The man stared up at Ra’s in terror.

“Ah…he’s he’s in isolation ro-room twelve,” The man stuttered, gesturing towards a doorway at the back of the lab. “Don’t kill me, ple-”

Ra’s sword sliced the arterial vein in his neck. He wiped the blade on the scientist’s coat, and went through. A long hallway lined with doors greeted him, black numbers painted above their frames.

Through the window of door twelve, Ra’s could see Timothy sitting in the far corner of the room, hunched in on himself as much as his straitjacket would allow. The waste. The waste of it, of the boy’s potential. Ra’s men would burn N.O.W.H.E.R.E. out, slay every man and woman who had supported it, until even its memory was extinguished.

Now, though, Ra’s had the distasteful duty of laying the detective to rest. He entered the cell, and stared at the pitiful figure hiding in the corner.

“Such a waste, detective. You could have been great.” Ra’s laid his hand on his sword.

Timothy looked up when Ra’s spoke. His eyes darted around the room before settling on Ra’s. He frowned.

“Shut. Up… Abo. About. It. Ra’s.” The words were labored, dropping heavily from Timothy’s mouth. The effort exhausted him, and his head dropped back down.

 _He spoke._ He had spoken. Against every expectation. Ra’s set his dignity aside and knelt in front of the detective. He reached, and gently, ever so gently, tilted Timothy’s head up until their eyes met. Humiliation and shame burned on the detective’s face.

“You understand me, detective?” Ra’s asked. A slow, clumsy glower crossed Timothy’s face.

“My… name. is Tim. Us…use. It,” Timothy forced out, eyes sparking with the intensity of his focus.

Ra’s smiled. “Timothy.”

“Tim,” The boy repeated, insistently. Ra’s stroked his cheek. Alive. The detective was alive.

“Tim,” Ra’s agreed, watching triumph sweep across Timothy’s face at the acknowledgement. He helped the boy to his feet, pleasure rising as Timothy leaned against him for support. He wrapped his cloak around them both, sheltering Timothy between his body and the enveloping edge. Alive.

“I will make you great,” Ra’s promised him. Ra’s has always learned from his errors. He will not let there be another chance for the detective to be cut down.

***

Ra’s was the new constant of Tim’s life, as he struggled to regain everything he had lost. Whatever else was true, Tim trusted that Ra’s would take care of him for now. They enjoyed challenging each other, and Tim’s patchy memory told him they always had. Ra’s would see no value in striking Tim down when he was weak. Tim was safe with him for now, whatever else might have occurred in the past or would occur in the future. He trusted that, as he trusted Ra’s to help Tim regain himself.

Tim stumbled, barely managing to toss his sword aside before he fell heavily on the ground. Ra’s turned and retrieved Tim’s sword, politely giving him a chance to rise with some dignity intact.

Tim leaned against the Salle’s wall, deliberately breathing in a slow, even rhythm. “I’m…sorry, Ra’s…I can’t…continue. Today.” His broken speech made a humiliated flush rise on his face. He wanted to be better. Now. Ra’s replaced both their swords in the weapon rack, and walked over to Tim.

“You are improving far more quickly than I had hoped,” Ra’s told him, brushing Tim’s disarrayed bangs from his face. “I had not expected you to be walking unaided for another week, let alone spar successfully.”

Ra’s praise made some of the self-loathing that had risen fade. Ra’s didn’t lie. If he said he hadn’t expected Tim to be able to walk, he meant it.

“…Thank you,” Tim mumbled, leaning against Ra’s for a moment, drawing strength from the older man. His pace as he exits the Salle is far slower than reasonable, but Ra’s walks by his side unhurriedly.

Ra’s stopped him with a touch on his wrist. “It’s almost sunset, Tim. Shall we watch?” Since Ra’s rescued him, Tim has been entranced by sunrises and sunsets. He’d forgotten them, forgotten what the sun even looked like. Watching one still brought a thrill of wonder, and Ra’s was happy to indulge him.

“Please,” Tim said. They turned off the main hallway, exiting onto a west-facing balcony. Tim shivered a little in the pre-dusk chill, and Ra’s wrapped his cloak and arm around him, sheltering Tim against the elements. Tim sighed and turned his eyes to the golden skyline. Ra’s took such care with him. Tim didn’t know how he’d ever convince himself to leave.

***

“May I. Accompany you?” Tim asked carefully. Ra’s raised an eyebrow and gestured for Tim to take a seat.

“Any reason why, Tim?” Ra’s asked. As always, the repetition of his name made Tim relax unconsciously. It amused Ra’s how adorable he found that reflex. Familiarity brought its own habits, he supposed.

“I. My memories, of New York. I want to see if they’re, accurate.” Tim leaned on the edge of Ra’s desk, facing him. He smiled shyly. “I am also. Saying goodbye? I think. To my past.”

Ra’s would not have refused him after that were it much more difficult to arrange. And so Tim is with him in New York. Ra’s had his own business to attend to, but Tim was more than capable of handling simple travel around the city.

Ra’s was not at all happy to return to the penthouse to find Tim pressed up against the back wall, the detective looming over him.

“Manners, Mr. Wayne,” Ra’s said coolly. Tim took the opportunity to slide under the detective’s arm and retreat to Ra’s side, allowing Ra’s to wrap his arm and half his cloak around him.

“What have you done to Tim?” The detective demanded. Tim cast a sideways look at the man, deeply unimpressed. Ra’s squeezed Tim’s shoulder.

“I have done nothing but allow him a chance to heal,” Ra’s told the detective, not bothering to hide the triumph in his voice. He had won, and the detective had lost, long before this confrontation started.

The detective growled. “What happened?” Tim sighed, turning inward toward Ra’s.

“Perhaps. You should ask, why Ra’s had to rescue me,” Tim said, voice as steady as he could make it. “Should have, rather. I, no longer care.”

Ra’s chuckled and pulled Tim closer. “You are too late, detective. Leave us be.”


End file.
